


Progression

by hopeassassin



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Bond Progression, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:10:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeassassin/pseuds/hopeassassin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What the hell were all those idiots talking about, anyway? They were <i>not</i> dating. She wasn’t even his <i>type</i>. </p>
<p>…Right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Progression

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aimys](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Aimys).



> And I bet you thought I was bad before episode 43 happened. ≖‿≖ Now I simply cannot stop myself.
> 
> Written for [Amy's prompt/headcanon](http://i.imgur.com/FHMTCZk.jpg) on tumblr.

“Aomine and Momoi, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”

 

A familiar tune, followed by peals of rich laughter.

 

However, it was the content of the song that made twelve-year-old Daiki’s face contort in a perplexed frown. He sized up his classmates levelly, grimacing.

 

“What the hell is that?” he asked at length, distaste laden thickly in his voice.

 

His friends chortled impishly amongst themselves, knowing looks on their faces as they returned his scrutiny.

 

“You and Momoi are obviously all lovey-dovey together. You don’t have to hide it from us anymore! We already know.”

 

This was why pre-pubescent boys were no good, even though Daiki could exactly express it verbally. Being one of them, he understood exactly right why suddenly discovering the wonders of the opposite sex made girls and relationships and _love_ , as mystifying a concept as it still was to them, so interesting.

 

Trust elementary schoolers to start making up tailed lies about seeing things where there’s nothing to see.

 

He’d never been famous for being a very patient or reserved person, Daiki’s expression morphed into a disapproving scowl.

 

“Where the hell did you get that idea? If it’s a girl, she obviously needs to be older, more feminine. Like…” The navy-haired boy struggled for a moment, as he considered what exactly he was trying to say. He gestured with his hands, making a vague shape in the air that looked like the figure eight. “Like _this_. With curves. And a big rack!” he enthused, as though only just realizing the importance of the addition. He gestured with his hands again, illustrating his claim. “Not some little twerp like _Satsuki_.”

 

He sneered at the mere notion. Satsuki was just… well, _Satsuki_. Sure, she was a girl, but before being a girl, she was _Satsuki_ , you know?!

 

And, being twelve, just like the rest of them, she was _flat as a board_.

 

The boys listened to his tirade, lifting curious brows all the while. When he was finished, they shared a knowing look amongst themselves, snickering. They shrugged.

 

“Whatever you say, lover boy.”

 

He hadn’t convinced them. They thought they knew something, however untrue he tried to explain to them it was.

 

Daiki sighed in defeat, propping his head up on his palm forlornly.

 

“She’s not even close to being my type. But you keep insisting on this. There are some things I’ll never understand,” he lamented dramatically, making his friends roll their eyes.

 

Unbeknownst to the group of boys, a certain bubble-gum pink-haired girl heard his total disregard of her as a potential love interest.

 

Her brows furrowed moodily, and she scoffed to herself. She turned her head so sharply in the other direction her beautiful long tresses billowed around her.

 

She pressed a hand to her even chest, feeling slighted. Of course she’d be flat! She’d had to be some kind of _freak of nature_ to have D-cup boobs at such an early age.

 

Who was he to hand out verdicts like that anyway? Stupid basketball idiot!

 

Who cares what he thinks?! It’s not like he’ll ever be _her_ type either!

 

* * *

 

“Aomine-san, are you and Momoi-san dating?”

 

They were in the gym, stretching for P.E. when the question had tumbled out of the mouths of one of his classmates, who also happened to be in the basketball club with him.

 

Daiki’s face scrunched up in a grimace and he sighed. He already felt tired and exasperated with this discussion before it had even started.

 

If he got a five yen coin for every time he heard that sentence—in various phrasings and shapes—he’d be filthy rich.

 

“No, we’re not.”

 

The topic itself was agitating enough, but the expressions on the boys’ faces around him at his response were doubly irksome. Daiki felt a headache coming on from the effort it was taking him to _not_ punch any of them in the stupid mugs for making him go through the motions of this conversation _yet again_ , for the _thousandth time_ in his life.

 

“Can you guys come off it already? Such a drag…” he grumbled, doing his stretching exercises with exaggerated devotion.

 

His classmates shared a look. He’d seen it a thousand times as well. However, instead of appearing smug about it, every single one of them seemed genuinely puzzled.

 

“But, why not?”

 

They didn’t understand. No one ever seemed to.

 

Daiki heaved a great sigh, as though he was forced to deal with something especially trying and burdensome.

 

“She’s not even my type, why would I be interested?”

 

Over the years, he had become so accustomed to hearing that question that deflecting it masterfully had become second nature to the Touou ace.

 

Instead of invoking the usual reactions, his statement seemed to perplex the boys even further.

 

“I thought your type was small, petite, with a big rack,” one of them recited flawlessly. Daiki nodded shamelessly in concurrence.

 

“Exactly!” he added aloud. Big boobs are really damn _important_ , okay?

 

“Then how exactly is she not your type?” the boy who’d asked him That One Question parried.

 

This gave Daiki pause. It was unusual. It threw spanners into the dynamic of this stereotypical conversation. It was a response that caught him entirely unawares.

 

And, in the face of it, there was only one, extremely eloquent retort Daiki could make.

 

“ _Huh_?”

 

The other boys shared a look—That One Knowing Look, which he abhorred, but instead of being smartasses about it, they seemed like they really couldn’t make heads or tails of the ace’s logic.

 

“Well, she’s like the embodiment of your type when you think about it.”

 

Was she? He was quite certain she didn’t use to be.

 

Then again, a lot of years had passed since that time he’d first confronted his previous classmates about this.

 

What he had made up on the spot had become his religion overtime. And big boobs on a fine body were an absolute _must_ , in Daiki’s books. He thought it was natural. After all, he was a guy who took good care of himself. The least he expected of the girls his eyes were drawn to was that they cared in equal amounts about how they looked, too.

 

His cobalt gaze pinned to Satsuki, being lifted off her feet, back arched, as the girl behind her lifted her up in a stretching exercise. The position allowed for his prying, evaluating eyes to notice exactly what his classmates were trying to direct his attention at.

 

Huh. Well.

 

What would you know.

 

He guessed, now that he looked at her like this, his classmates had a point.

 

Her boobs certainly had grown.

 

They had grown _well_.

 

He hadn’t noticed before.

 

But now that they _made_ him notice, it was hard to _stop_ noticing it anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Dai— _nngh_!”

 

He smirked against her flesh. He could feel the excited flutter of her heartbeat, her body vibrating with tension as he kneaded her breasts.

 

His feral grin faded, replaced by the look of maddening concentration he always adopted whenever he busied himself with her ample chest.

 

He removed her bra with deft fingers, his hands already expertly dexterous at dealing with the garment.

 

It had been a tricky thing to master, but after years of having to divest her of it, he’d learned a thing or two.

 

Once the perfect mounds of succulent flesh were freed from the constriction of her lacy bra, he took a moment to appreciate the gorgeous sight she made for.

 

This was the only aphrodisiac Daiki would ever need. The sight of her, burned into his mind, just like this: face flushed, skin hot, shirt open, skirt hiked up over her thighs, legs spread wide for him as she lay beneath him.

 

The thudding of his pulse in his ears was almost as painful as the straining bulge in his pants.

 

Still, he made sure to always pause, and take account of what was his. This—this moment, _Satsuki_ , in this kind of situation—it was only his. And no one else’s.

 

The intensity of his gaze made his lover feel exposed. His eyes were raking down her form in a way that always made her feel raw. Her heart skipped a beat, then another, as his eyes skated over her curves.

 

She shifted her eyes away from him, trying to cover herself coyly with her shirt.

 

Daiki growled loudly, grasping her wrists and wrenching them away from her dishevelled clothing. He grabbed her hands in one of his and pinned them over her head. She gave a strangled mewl of disagreement as he did so.

 

“The hell, Satsuki?” he ground out, breath fanning in her face as he did so. “Don’t hide from me,” he commanded, his tone stern, his expression taut. The way he loomed over her, his throbbing erection still restrained in his clothing rubbed against her slender legs. “Whatcha being embarrassed about?” he chuckled, suddenly amused with her antics.

 

He let his mouth trace the outline of the shell of her ear, blowing warm air into her lobe and nibbling on the soft sack of flesh of it. She whimpered cutely, squirming in pleasure underneath him. He grinned against her skin, lifting his head anew to look into her face flushed with titillation.

 

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he pointed out smartly, making her pout in response.

 

Of course it wasn’t new. They were married, for pity’s sake. They were married and Daiki had always been a boob man. She knew that. She knew it best of all, of course.

 

But, exactly because it _wasn’t_ new to him, she felt shy.

 

“Then what are you staring at me like a vulture for?!” she managed to rasp out before he knocked the wind out of her lungs.

 

He took one of her pert nipples in his mouth, grazing his teeth against it and lapping at it, while his other hand massaged her other breast. He knew exactly how crazy it drove her when he lavished her boobs with attention when she was this turned on. He did this to her on purpose, she was sure.

 

He chuckled against her skin. The vibrations carried through his mouth upon her areola to every single nerve ending in her body, setting it ablaze. The heat in her abdomen coiled, and she gave a low whine, her back arching off the bed and further into him.

 

“I like to admire what’s mine,” he told her between nips and playful bites at her sensitive flesh.

 

His ministrations left her gasping for air, fingers twining in the spikes of his hair. She gave him an unkind yank as punishment, but instead of making him feel repentant, it only aroused him further.

 

He grunted against her, increasing the friction between their bodies aching for release.

 

“Less staring… _more acting_ ,” she ordered breathlessly. Her legs tightened their hold on his waist, urging him closer to the place she needed him most.

 

Daiki smirked to himself, beside himself with lewd joy. Now this was his woman. She always knew exactly what she wanted, how she wanted it, and she was never afraid (or _shy_ ) to ask for it.

 

And he was always more than willing to oblige. 

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not entirely sure if I did the prompt justice. It’s the best way I knew to fill it, though. So here it is! I hope you liked. ╮(─▽─)╭
> 
> FOR MY GODDESS, I DO EVERYTHING. EVERYTHING, I TELLS YA. I should be working on other story projects, but I COULD. NOT. RESIST. After episode 43, I just—GUH.
> 
> Still, as always, this is like 3 months overdue. *shrugs* I ought to stop expecting anything better of myself. Deadline game so strong with this one, bro.


End file.
